Out Of My Element
by Changeling Fey
Summary: No party equaled no sex, which equaled a depressed, extremely frustrated Axel." Strong language and implied smut. Mostly AkuRoku, but the entire Organization plays a big role, especially Xigbar and Luxord. Better explained in the AN.


**First off, I claim no credit for this story. Well, I claim credit in the sense that the words on the page came out of my head, but the original idea did not. My wonderful friend Hazu thought it up, and then, convinced that she couldn't write squat, asked me to do it.**

**I don't know what she was thinking either. Basically, the idea is, the Organization members react to each other the way their elements would react. Some of the interactions are really in your face, obvious, and some are more subtle. Some are just plain stupid.**

**This thing nommed my brain, so, when I finished, I didn't have the will power to go back and do much editing. Ergo, this is very rough and…yeah.**

**WARNING: Enough crack to wipe-out a third world country, butchered German, Xigbar fan service (for my friend Tulio :DD), retarded inside jokes, terrible language, horny Axel, transvestites, Larxene-bashing, uneditedness and a shit load of OOCness. **

**(Btw, it was once believed that the cycles of the moon affected women's periods. It'll make sense later, hopefully.)**

Roxas lazily tilted his face a little to the side, like a flower that gradually grows towards the sun. It was so, so warm, the light hammering down on his bare skin, his arms, his legs, his exposed neck. All he wanted to do was lounge there forever, soaking in the light and the heat and the gentle sounds of traffic from across the park.

"Hey, babe," said a low, snickering voice, shattering his perfect peace and replacing it with a horde of butterflies battering at his gut. How long would it be before just the sound of Axel's voice stopped giving him goosebumps? "Are you sleeping or working?"

Roxas didn't open his eyes though, relishing those last few moments of warm blindness, even if every cell and fiber and pore was screaming to drink in every aspect of Axel's grinning face, again and again and again. "I'm sleeping."

Axel filled his ears with the sound of his soft, teasing laughter. "Well, do you think I could get some ice cream, it's hotter than hell out here and it isn't just me."

Roxas cracked open his eyes, the shadow that was Axel's face swimming into focus from a blur of white and red. He was, indeed, grinning, his teeth so white and picture perfect that you wouldn't think he downed doughnuts like a cop on the beat. Or if you looked at his waist, for that matter, so twig-thin that now, with both hands settled on his hips, the tips of his fingers nearly touched.

Groaning, Roxas rolled off the park bench and ruffled his hair back into place with one hand, straightening his T-shirt with the other. Axel was waiting impatiently on the other side of the ice cream cart Roxas was supposed to be manning, but the few feet between them didn't make his green-eyed gaze any less piercing or any less…intimate.

"You're always burning up," Roxas pointed out as he levered open the refrigerated compartment and opened up a new box of sea-salt ice cream. He knew without asking it was what Axel wanted.

The man's grin twitched a little farther across his cheeks--tattooed with upside down tear drops--and he propped his elbows up on the cart and cradled his chin in his open palms, watching Roxas' every move. It might've been a little creepy if Roxas hadn't done the exact same thing so many countless times.

"Only because you like me that way," Axel said, far too loudly. What he should never say he whispered, what he should've whispered he saw no reason not to yell. At least no heads turned their way, yet.

Roxas felt blood throb to fill his face with color as he unwrapped the treat and handed it to Axel. "Axel, shush." Maybe if he put something in his mouth he wouldn't be able to talk around it.

"Why?" Axel said, trying not to laugh now. He accepted the blue-green popsicle but didn't move to take a bite. Instead he brushed back a chunk of spiked, rose red hair. "I bet you want me to take you right now."

Roxas bit down hard on his lip, knowing that he was blushing as deep a color as Axel's hair. "Axel…" he sighed through his teeth, even as the heat that pulsed in his cheeks spread to other, less visible bits of his body. How was it that this, just this, was enough to start Roxas' heart sprinting? Just talking to Axel.

Axel, whose eyebrows shoot up as soon as he didn't pick out any rejection in the blonde's voice. If he could've pricked his ears like a dog, he would've. "Do you?"

Roxas managed to fix on a withering mask. "We're in a park." He jerked a thumb towards the minimally graffitied jungle gym, specifically at the wooden square set a little off to the side. "There're kids in that sandbox."

Axel just leaned a little forward, finally keeping his voice appropriately low. Roxas might've preferred if he had screamed it to the heavens though, it would've been far less sexy. "They'll enjoy the show."

He had to fight hard to keep his hands on the cart, folding shut the box of ice cream, tucking it away, locking the little metal door. "You corrupted enough young ones for five lifetimes, you don't need to add any to the list."

Roxas let his eyes wander anywhere but his boyfriend. They studied his own pale, almost-fragile hands, the way a squirrel pounded its tiny fists together before pouncing on an acorn, the way the sunlight tumbled through the screen of still-green leaves. None of those things stoked the urge to grab strong shoulders, to kiss familiar lips, to run his fingers through fiery hair. Not like looking at Axel would've.

"Oh fine," Axel said, rolling his eyes like Roxas was being a complete child to turn down being fucked in a public park in broad daylight. He munched on the ice cream, managing to grimace around it. He shouldn't have looked so damn hot like that, just like it shouldn't have been so hard for Roxas to turn him down.

Lifting his arms from the cart, Axel sidled to the other side, where Roxas stood, and collapsed onto the bench. All without removing the popsicle from between his teeth. When he finally did, it was only long enough for him to ask, "Will you at least deign to sit beside me, Your Majesty, or are you afraid people may see someone as wonderful as you with someone like me?"

Roxas didn't even try to bite back a smile, he let it spread, sunny and brilliant across his cheeks as he sank down onto Axel's lap. His legs he stretched down the length of the bench, letting the tips of his toes dangle off the edge.

Axel sighed with contentment and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's temple. There was nothing Axel liked better than kissing Roxas, wherever his lips could reach. "That's better."

They just sat there for a long few minutes, Roxas' head cradled against Axel's chest and Axel's arms caging him there, warm and strong but gentle, tender. Roxas didn't care who saw them, who gasped or grew faint or turned the other cheek, because all there was to his world was Axel. Axel's drumming heartbeat, Axel's smoky, fiery smell, the way the sunlight gilded his hair.

It was Axel who broke the silence first, tossing the naked popsicle stick into the nearby trash bin and wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "You look so cute when you aren't thinking about anything," he said, crooking his head down to press a butterfly kiss between the spikes of Roxas' hair.

Such a simple, innocent touch shouldn't feel so sinfully good, but Roxas couldn't have kept the silly grin off his face if he'd stapled his lips together. "I'm thinking about plenty of things. For one, you shouldn't look so sexy in that T-shirt." Axel was wearing what was arguably his favorite tee, black but faded from his abusive washings, imprinted with a weird sort of guitar shape in gray. Even Axel admitted he didn't know what the hell it meant.

It hugged his skinny but strong chest, giving Roxas a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin as the hem rode up.

For some reason sparing another glance at the T-shirt reminded of something he had to ask. Something he'd been avoiding bringing up. "Hey, you remember my cousin Demyx, right?" Roxas asked before Axel could keep flirting. If he got distracted, Roxas was fairly sure he'd never be able to drag himself back to the topic.

Axel crinkled an eyebrow, wondering what was running through his boyfriend's little blond head, but nodded. "The tard? Yeah." He'd met Demyx once, at Christmas dinner…or maybe it was Thanksgiving… Axel didn't remember, since he'd had to be drunk off his ass to survive a night of Roxas' smothering family, with their jabbing remarks about his hair, his clothes, his tattoos. Oh God how they went on about his tattoos.

Roxas shot his boyfriend a disparaging look that felt awkward on a face that wanted to beam in agreement. "He's not retarded, he's just a little slow." Nah, he was pretty much retarded, but as family it was Roxas' duty to defend the kid. Besides, for this to work he needed to act enthusiastic. "Anyway, he's having a 21st birthday party and I'm going so that means you're going."

Axel laughed without a trace of humor and shook his head. "That's funny."

"There'll be beer," Roxas said, hoping he wouldn't have to beg. There was no way he was going to this party alone, and he'd do whatever he had to do to get Axel to tag along, but he'd rather keep off his knees, double meaning intended.

Axel rolled his eyes. "There's beer at home. And for the record, sweetheart, you might want to put a stop to this now." He ducked his head and nuzzled his forehead against Roxas' throat in a way so sweet that it didn't suit his words at all. "That brain of his doesn't need any more damage than it already has."

"You're going," Roxas said, trying to be forceful even when his bones felt like they were melting.

Laughing against his skin, Axel mouthed the depression just below Roxas' ear, ruffling his hair. "Hon, you could not get me to go to a birthday party and make nice to your retarded cousin Demyx and his no doubt retarded friends if you let me bang you every night for the next week."

Roxas grinned, suddenly having an idea that he was sure would work. Probably better than it should. Swiveling around, he caught Axel's lips with his own, teasing with tongue and teeth so that when he tore away his boyfriend's face was flushed, his eyes half-glazed over with want.

"Don't come," Roxas said, pushing himself a little deeper into Axel's embrace, pressing on all the spots that would make the other man's heart race like a jack rabbit's. "And that's all you get for the next month."

Axel's beautiful green eyes narrowed to slits, his lips pulling down into a teasing grimace. "You sexy son of a bitch."

***

Luxord tapped his heel against the trunk of the tree he was propped against, raining missiles of bark down on the defenseless anthill. The campus was more than half dead, just a gaggle of professors squawking about whatever it is professors squawk about and a few couples making babies in places they must've thought really, freaking, secret, because they weren't exactly being careful about what clothes got tossed which way or how loud they moaned and screamed.

They must've sucked at hide-and-seek when they were in elementary school.

Luxord turned his face to the side, wishing for once that he had some hair to veil his peripheral with instead of the cropped puff of blond fuzz he had. If he wanted some porn, Xigbar could get him the good stuff. Or, Luxord could just break into his stash--he knew where it was--but there was a locked apartment door in the way, the one that opened only to the key Luxord had lost or to Xigbar's.

No Xigbar equaled no key which equaled no porn. It also equaled no beer.

Son of a bitch.

A whole two weeks Luxord had had to wait everyday after school for Xigbar to drag his lazy ass out of the building so they could catch a bus home. And everyday for a whole two weeks Xigbar had been late.

Everyday he said that by 3:40, he'd be ready to go, ten minutes after the last bell rang. Fine. Great. Luxord didn't usually make it out until 3:35 anyway, he could last five minutes.

But everyday 3:40 ticked right past, and then 3:45, and then 3:50.

Luxord had stopped expecting Xigbar before 4:00. It drove him insane, standing there, or sitting there, or standing on his head there, but he managed to deal with it. After all, Xigbar did carry around a surprising amount of shit, and he usually had to stop by the locker-room, and sometimes the coach wanted a word with him, and every once in a while a teammate had to ask him something. 4:00 was…not reasonable, but explainable.

Quarter to five was just Xigbar fucking with him, and they both knew it.

Just because late people made Luxord want to kill a bitch and Xigbar liked to fuck with people's heads.

"'Sup my home dawg?" Xigbar called from across the football field, causing one of the girls getting banged in the bushes to squeal with fright. At least, Luxord hoped that was what made her squeal. He didn't want to think of anything else that might've.

"You are not black, you lying fucker," Luxord growled, unhitching himself from the tree and slinging his book bag over his shoulder. It slapped his hip with each angry step he took towards the man he called his best friend, as if to determined to beat him to death with the AP Stats book inside. "And not even the most ghetto person on the face of the planet says 'dawg'."

"Sorry dude," Xigbar said, juggling his favorite, abused, soccer ball up and down the length of his body like it was easy as breathing. "Some newbie Freshman wanted me to show him how to do a bicycle kick." He snorted, tapping the ball from the toe of his sneaker to his knee and up to his hands, where it rested. "I don't know how he thinks he's going to make the team if he can't even do that."

"What did you do?" Luxord asked, scratching at his beard, then, realizing it made him look a little too super villain, switched to rubbing a hand through his hair. The two drew up alongside each other and turned to head towards the bus stop. "Play an entire game?"

Xigbar shrugged, dangerously happy light in his gold eyes. "Only to halftime."

Luxord bristled but let the matter drop, choosing instead to glance at his watch, wound and set to keep flawless time. It was 4:55, and the last bus before nine o' clock arrived at five.

"Hey," he said, raising one eyebrow at his friend, who raised one winged eyebrow in response, just to mock him. The only one he could raise in fact, as the other was hidden behind an oversize, pirate-like eye patch. It matched the scar that drew up across his jaw towards his undamaged eye. Compliments of one too many beers and a bodybuilder that couldn't take a joke. "Bet you can't beat me to the stop."

Xigbar laughed, a rough throaty sound, and reached behind his head to tighten the ponytail that never, ever came down. The ball was tucked into his bag, the strap of which he hiked a bit higher on his shoulder. "As if."

***

"I let you win," Xigbar said, unhooking his keychain from his belt and shoving one into the gummy old lock.

"You can tell yourself that, if you like, but I thrashed you," Luxord said, laughing a little, almost forgetting that he was supposed to be pissed off at Xigbar. The fucker had kept him waiting for an hour and fifteen minutes. Luxord would've been mad after ten.

But the two of them had one of those weird, inexplicable friendships, where no matter how much they ruffled each others feathers the still sat down on the same couch and got wasted together at the end of the day.

The apartment door squealed open, the wood moaning like the couples "hidden" around the campus. Tucking his keys into his pocket, Xigbar stepped into their apartment and paused, just inside, head quirked to one side like a curious bird's.

"Well, well, I think we have us an infestation," he said, dropping his gym bag unceremoniously to the shag carpet. "Think I should squish the bug?" he asked, glancing back at Luxord over his shoulder, trying not to grin like an absolute idiot. "It's awful big."

Scrunching up his face with suspicion, Luxord followed his friend inside, levering the whiny door shut behind him before turning around to face whatever horror awaited him.

It was worse than he thought.

"BITCH OUT OF MY HOUSE," he yelled, pointing a shaky, angry finger right back at the just closed door. His whole body was wound tighter than his watch, every muscle shivering and every tendon vibrating like a plucked violin string.

"You call this a house?" Larxene snorted, taking a generous chug from the bottle in her hand. She was plopped right down in the middle of their couch, right where the seat had molded to fit Luxord's ass from all the hours he had sat there. Her feet were propped up against the coffee table, her head lazing back against the wall. There was something on the TV, but it was facing away from him and turned down to a mosquito-buzz, so he could only imagine what his sister was watching.

"If you don't like it," he said, refusing to lower his finger, jabbing towards the door again as if to imprint the idea into her skull. "Leave."

Larxene shrugged and thumbed the remote, flipping through the channels. "I can't."

Luxord raised an eyebrow and gnawed at the inside of his cheek to stop the string of curses from tumbling out. Swearing at her wouldn't get her off her ass. "I see no reason why you can not. There is the door, there are your feet, looking pretty unbroken."

Xigbar snickered as he snuck around the breakfast bar, making a beeline for the fridge, his sneakers squealing on the grubby tile.

"Grab me a beer," Luxord called after him without turning away from his sister.

A snort was followed by the sound of the fridge being ripped open, which was followed by, "As if." Which Luxord knew meant yes. It was just hardwired into Xigbar's brain, like he was a Tickle-Me-Elmo with only one recorded phrase that played when you poked his stomach.

There was enough of a pause that Luxord opened his mouth to yell at Larxene some more, and she opened hers, ready to defend herself, but not long enough for either of the two to get a word out. Xigbar's scarred face rose over the top of the fridge door, a frown, uncomfortable looking on his eternally grinning face, crinkling his lips. "She took the last one," he snarled, looking as if he wouldn't mind strangling a kitten if one had meandered by.

Luxord finally lowered his arm to his side, but only so he could hide his hands in his pockets to smother the temptation to ball them into fists. "If you know what's good for you, leave, right now," he said, voice just a hint deadly. Breaking into their apartment was one thing, she had a spare key, just in case of emergencies, but drinking their last beer, their last beer, was crossing an uncrossable line.

Larxene wasn't the least bit fazed, even when Xigbar reappeared in the living room and gave her a one-eyed glare that he didn't even treat rats to. "I have the right to bum at your apartment if I want, you're my brother."

That was her excuse? Really? "Not of my choice," Luxord said, finally taking a moment to take the bag of his shoulder and fling it onto a waiting armchair. The ancient, beaten thing shrieked in protest and rocked backwards before settling with a deep, pained moan. "Mom didn't take me to the Genetic Emporium and ask me which one I'd like to get. You aren't a stray dog."

"If she was you could have her put down," Xigbar pointed out. His arms were knotted over his chest, the material of his warm-up jacket stretched to near it's limit around his broad shoulders.

"Don't tempt me," Luxord hissed, loving the idea more every second that Larxene didn't hightail it out of their apartment. Hell, she didn't even put down the remote or their last beer, she kept right on channel surfing.

At least she bothered to sigh and shoot the pair a miserable look. "Look, I lost my job and got kicked out of my apartment. I had no place else to go."

Luxord was still mourning the loss of his beer, and wasn't feeling much up to sympathy. "Then go sell blow jobs on the street corner." Larxene opened her mouth to scream something no doubt unprintable at him, but he cut off the thought with a shake of his head. "Never mind, you're right, who would want you?"

Her snarl ripped from her gut to her throat and out through clenched teeth, her face turning a gratifying shade of red. "I swear to God Luxord, I will rip your head off your shoulders."

Ha. If threats like that hadn't worked when they were kids, it certainly wasn't going to work now, when Luxord was six feet tall with an athletic--albeit shorter--best friend at his side, cracking his knuckles and murmuring sweet thoughts of breaking the thief's face under his breath.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luxord drawled, every words drenched in venomous sarcasm. "I was under the impression you were trying to get me to let you sleep on my couch, not trade you to the gypsies. If you're going to talk to me like that I'll call them right now and tell them I have a blond bitch, priced to sell."

"Because you know gypsies and have them on speed dial," Xigbar said, shooting his friend just a little grin, putting his Larxene-bashing fantasies on pause.

Luxord glanced at his giggling friend. "Whose side are you on?"

Xigbar shrugged and waved him away. "Yours, definitely yours, but you pitched that one right to me." The man straightened his eye patch and flopped down onto one of the stools crowded around the breakfast bar, picking absently at his nails. "Now get her the hell out. The game's on tonight and I want my couch back."

Turning back to his sister, Luxord put on a deep, wrinkle-setting frown.

For the first time all night Larxene looked less than comfortable. Her eyebrows fell together, and she nibbled at her lower lip. "Please, okay, just let me stay here. I'll pay for food."

"With what money?" Luxord asked, knowing she had no answer. "You're a college student up to your ass in loans and no job." His legs growing tired off standing, he lowered himself onto a stool next to Xigbar, lodging his still sneakered feet in the framework.

Larxene actually looked a little desperate. "Then I'll clean, or cook."

Xigbar shot her a withering look with his one good eye. "I might not care if the pizza I eat has been left out for three days and set upon by rats, but I would rather not have you fucking with my food."

"Please. Just for a little while. I'll do anything."

Anything? Well, maybe if she slept on the couch… But she had stolen their last beer. But anything…

The phone squealed nearly off the hook, rattling angrily at the wall it was nailed to. "Hold that thought," Luxord said, reaching over the counter to pick it up, not bothering to look at the display since their service was so cheap it didn't come with caller ID. "'Ello?"

"Hey, Luxord?" answered a crackling voice--though that was probably just the phone--that was familiar but nameless.

"Yeah, who's calling?"

"It's Roxas." Oh. Luxord's cousin, Aunt Namine's son. It made sense now, why he didn't recognize him at first, they never talked on the phone, at least, never on such a crappy one. "Uhm, are you going to Demyx's birthday party?"

"Demyx?" Luxord parroted, quirking an eyebrow even though the boy on the other end couldn't see it. Demyx was another cousin, a fling Luxord's Uncle Sora had had before he realized he didn't much like the ladies. Now Demyx lived with him and his partner, Riku. The kid was a little…messed up in the head. "Party?"

Roxas sighed, a soft whooshing sound. "Go check your mail, I know he sent you an invite."

Luxord stretching to snatch up the pile that he'd collected this morning without getting a chance to read. He flicked through the envelopes, looking for one that wasn't junk. Win a trip to the Bahamas, save money with Visa, IRS, electric bill, water bill--oo, paycheck--and right at the bottom, a envelope scrawled all over in messy handwriting. It was easy enough to pick out his own name though and Demyx's, crammed into the corner.

Shit. No more feigning ignorance. "Ah. Well, eh, you see--"

Roxas groaned, his voice desperate as he cut off Luxord's rambling. "Please just go. I couldn't bring myself to say no but I swear to God if I'm the only one who shows up I will go insane."

What made him think Luxord wanted to go any more than he did? Demyx wasn't a bad kid, he was just a little slow, sort of distant. It wasn't exactly Luxord's idea of a good waste of his time. But still, he didn't want to make Roxas suffer all on his lonesome. "What about your boyfriend, what's his name?"

He could almost hear Roxas rolling his eyes. "Axel. He's going, but he's not exactly good with people that don't ride his same brainwave. In fact, if he actually has to talk to Demyx for more than ten minutes because no one else is around to do it I think he might torch the whole place to the ground."

Luxord thought about it for a minute. If his memory served--which, thanks to a love of beer it might very well not--this was Demyx's twenty-first birthday party. Which meant, most likely, he could count on an appearance by said beloved. And with Larxene sipping at the last they had, the thought was certainly tempting.

But if it was just Demyx, Roxas, Axel and himself… "Can I bring guests?"

Roxas snorted into the receiver. "Go for it, please."

"Then I'll come. Let Demyx know I'll be bringing a couple friends." Free beer was worth a few drunken hours of his time, as long as there were enough distractions for the kid so he wouldn't be expected to provide actual conversation.

"Thanks Luxord," Roxas said, and Luxord could tell the boy was grinning around his words. "I owe you one for this. I just feel so bad for the guy sometimes, I couldn't skip out on his party."

"No problem. I'll see you then, 'bye." Hanging up the phone and teasing open the invitation so he could see when and where his beloved would be, he caught Larxene's disbelieving stare.

"I hope you weren't referring to me," she said, her mouth gaping like a dead fish's.

Luxord nodded, tearing free a fold of creamy cardstock imprinted with a bold black font. "Both of you."

Xigbar took the news philosophically, rubbing at an imaginary goatee. "Will there be beer?"

"That's what I'm counting on," Luxord said, scanning the invite. Hey, I'm having a little party at the Oblivion Bar on September 9th to celebrate my 21st birthday. Nothing fancy, and you don't have to bring anything, just yourself. I hope you can make it. I'll be there at 4:30, come whenever you can. Luxord had never actually been to or heard of the Oblivion, but it had the word bar tacked onto the end and bars had beer so it wasn't a big deal. He could always Map Quest it.

Xigbar grinned, a huge toothy smile that stretched the band of white, knobby flesh stretching up his jaw. "Then I'm all good."

Larxene wasn't as enthusiastic. "That kid hates my guts, he's terrified of me."

Shrugging, Luxord tacked the cardstock to the corkboard hung next to the phone, where he'd see it and remind himself of the time whenever he went to get something to eat. "Then maybe if you show up he'll hide in a corner and we won't have to deal with him. Besides, since you aren't paying rent, I figure I should at least get to watch you suffer through this."

It would easily be worth a week of Larxene's bumming to see her at this party.

***

"Get your lazy ass out of bed," Roxas said, torturing Axel's shoulder with his violent shakes. Axel moaned and buried his face deeper into the creases of the comforter, inhaling his own smell mingling with Roxas' and so-called odorless detergent.

"It's three in the afternoon," Roxas continued, stomping around the bed that domineered the cramped but relatively clean room to tear open the curtains. The window spilled buckets of warm, half-blinding light right onto the bed, gilding the dust motes that meandered through the air and the curve of Axel's bare arms. "Even for you that's pushing it."

"Mmm," Axel groaned, clawing for a pillow and cramming it over his head. "I'm tired, can't I sleep a little longer?"

"What?" Roxas teased, snatching the pillow from Axel's sleep-weak fingers and throwing it to the floor. "I thought you loved spending time with me. I thought you loved me, not bed."

Axel hauled himself up, limbs dragging like he was a marionette with weights tied to its strings. "Can't I love both? Preferably at the same time?" he asked, snaking his arms around Roxas' waist as the boy tried to scoot past. A warm face pressed against Roxas' shoulder as he collapsed onto Axel's lap with a squeak.

"Have you been baking?" Axel opened his eyes to spare Roxas, who smelled deliciously like something sweet and gooey and good--not that he didn't always smell good--a hopeful glance.

"Cookies," Roxas said, nodding. "They're for Demyx though, so no stealing any."

Axel pulled a sour face, craning his head around to steal a sloppy kiss that filled his mouth with the taste of chocolate and sugar. "You're such a tease, coming in here smelling like cookies when I'm so delirious and starving. I could just eat you up."

Roxas smiled and let Axel drip kisses down his jaw and over his throat. "If you're hungry, I can make some breakfast. I picked up more pancake mix yesterday."

Axel purred, a slow, rumbling sound deep in his chest that rattled Roxas' bones. "It's a little late for breakfast, don't you think? Besides, I can think of a better use for syrup and whipped cream."

"Of course you can," Roxas murmured, trying to keep his voice distant and uncaring, even as Axel dipped his hands up under the hem of his shirt, trailing warm fingertips over his chest. He tried to swallow a moan as Axel teased along his breastbone with lips and tongue and teeth, but he failed, and one trickled out anyway.

"The party's in an hour and a half," he gasped, trying to latch onto that last frayed string of thought that wasn't consumed by heat and want and Axel.

"That's plenty of time," Axel whispered against the hollow of his throat. Those warm, warm hands snuck away from Roxas' chest, making him whimper at the loss until he felt one of them tugging at the zipper of his hoodie and the other worming underneath the waistband of his jeans.

"Nnngh, Axel--"

Axel swallowed the thought with a heady kiss that tasted a little of sleep but mostly just tasted of Axel. Roxas gave into the pleading lips and probing hands, and kissed him back, curling his arms around broad shoulders and toying with soft, unstyled hair.

Axel sensed his boyfriend acquiescing and took advantage of it, turning soft and slow into hungry and wild. Hands wrestled the sweater and T-shirt off Roxas' skinny frame, starving to dance over familiar skin, to knead the familiar spots that would make Roxas moan and shudder, to feel the hammering of Roxas' over-excited heart against his ribcage. To feel Roxas.

Roxas let him do it, even helped, lifting his arms up long enough for Axel to shimmy off his tee, before dropping them to the hem of his boyfriend's sleep shirt, just as hungry to meet skin with skin and fire with fire.

Half a moment later, both men--naked to the waist--collapsed to the rumpled sheets. Axel, hovering overhead, propped up on his elbows, rained kisses over every inch of skin his lips could reach. All the while Roxas dug his nails into the man's shoulder blades, throwing his head back against a pillow and trying not to melt into a huge sticky puddle as Axel abused every memorized sweet spot with every tool he had.

Just that was plenty to get Axel more than a little hot and more than a lot bothered by the pants restraining him. Just the sight of Roxas squirming with pleasure, his skin sweaty and flushed with delicate color.

Fingers fumbling just a little, Axel groped for the fly of Roxas' jeans, seeing with his hands. Before he could find the toothed metal, the hands on his shoulders grew rough, twisting him, throwing him over onto his back.

The bed squealed as they switched, Roxas--hands planted on either side of Axel's face--the one to steal a hot, lust-soaked kiss before morphing it to one feathery, chaste and loving.

The blond boy backed away, looking down at Axel with a devilish grin in his eyes and one ghosting over his lips. Axel gaped up at him, confused, his brain refusing to focus on anything but the pulsing want that swam through him.

"We finish this later," Roxas said, brushing one last butterfly kiss over the tip of Axel's nose. "After you make good on your promise and go to the party."

Shooting his boyfriend a smile as sweet as his kisses, Roxas tumbled away, rolling to his feet. He hunted down his shirt and tugged it over his ruffled hair, trying to smooth down the static cling.

Axel couldn't rip his eyes away from him, his pants still throbbing like they might explode, the taste of Roxas still poisoning his mouth. Even when the blond danced out of the room, calling that he had better be ready to leave in an hour, Axel stared at the door, his mind erased to a perfect blank. All his thoughts torched by a wildfire.

It was three minutes before he flopped out of bed, hobbled across the room, stripping as he went--though there wasn't much left to strip--and slipped into the iciest shower he'd taken in ages.

***

Luxord blew past Xigbar, one hand struggling to squeeze one of a half-dozen piercings into his ears, the other holding his watch close to his face. 4:10. The party was due to start in twenty minutes and they were still scrambling around the apartment like rats. At least they wouldn't have to catch a bus, they could take Larxene's car, but still, the bar was halfway across town and…

Wait.

Craning his head around, Luxord frowned at his roommate, who wore nothing but a towel cinched around his waist, his bare back dusted with wet and his long hair--still in its ponytail--streaming with water.

"Xigbar," Luxord hissed, studying his watch once more. 4:11. They had to be leaving now. "Hurry the hell up. We're going to be late."

Xigbar turned, one hand tamping at his face with another towel, his eye patch sitting a little askew. "Chill out dude," he said, shaking his head. "I just gotta blow dry my hair."

God damn. "Oh no you don't," Luxord said, assuming his just-freaking-try stance. Arms crossed, weight unbalanced, jaw as tight as a perfectly tuned violin string. "That'll take a half-hour."

Xigbar spread his bare, muscled arms, gesturing to his bare, muscled chest, both tanned from too many turns getting picked for "skins". "I can't go like this, I'll catch cold."

Luxord gave him a look. One that said shut your fucking mouth. "It's ninety degrees out."

Wagging one finger, Xigbar swiped away a dribble of water that was trickling down his throat. "Not once the sun goes down." He laughed and waved away Luxord's pop-a-vein expression as it fixed itself to the blond man's face. "Just go, I'll catch up with you."

Peek at watch. 4:13. As much as Luxord hated others being late, he hated being late himself twice as much. It was killing him not to sprint out of the apartment. But to show up at a party he didn't want to go to with just his bitch of a sister and no friend to waste away the time with… "You don't have a ride."

Xigbar shrugged. "I'll take the bus, I can be there by five."

Luxord made a face and worried his lower lip. A half-hour wasn't that bad. A half-hour making nice with Demyx was…tolerable. Besides, he could always sic Larxene on him and sneak off to start working on his buzz. "Are you sure? Five?"

"Of course I'm sure," Xigbar said, as if he'd suggested the moon was made of cheese. "Now go, or you'll be late."

***

"This is stupid," Axel said, trying not to squirm too much, as Roxas drew ever closer to the Oblivion Bar. They were in Axel's beat-up red sedan, but before he could even think of flipping the ignition Roxas had stolen the keys and pushed him over to the passenger side.

Apparently Roxas didn't quite trust him to drive to the bar without purposefully getting caught in traffic or stalling the engine, and that was okay with Axel. He didn't trust himself.

"Do you want me to turn around?" Roxas asked without glancing away from the road. His ocean blue eyes, swollen with reflected headlights and dimly glowing street lamps were busy scanning the addresses that flew past on either side, numbers ghosting over his lips. "I can have the couch made up in a few minutes if you'd like to take a nap."

Roxas didn't expect Axel to answer, which was good, because he didn't. It was about as straightforward as anything could be. No party equaled no sex which equaled a depressed, extremely frustrated Axel.

A minute or two passed in silence, with only Roxas' whisperings to himself to fill the void. "Axel, the invite is in the glove compartment, can you check the street number for me?" he said finally, shattering the quiet.

Axel complied, unfolding the cardstock with skinny, ring-embellished fingers. "333 Whirlwind Way."

It took a few minutes of Roxas muttering "whirlwind…whirlwind" and Axel insisting that they had passed it before Roxas believed him, performed a wickedly illegal U-turn, hunted down the street and consequently the bar, pulling into a parallel park behind a blue Prius.

"All right, here we are," Roxas said, cutting the engine and tucking the key into his pocket. Seatbelt peeling away, he glanced expectantly at Axel.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" the redhead asked, gnawing nervously at his lip near a tiny pinprick scar that showed where a piercing had once lived. "I really didn't get along with Demyx the last time we met." That was the understatement of the century, but the interaction between Axel and Roxas' mother had been far worse than that with his cousin, and Axel had come out of that mostly unscathed.

"Look, I know you really don't want to be here. Do you have any idea how much it means to me that you are? Even you are sort of doing it to get in my pants." Roxas blushed a little at that, just enough to give his cheeks an adorable rosy tint.

Axel sighed, and unclipped his seatbelt. He didn't like the way Roxas made him sound like such a complete jackass. And it wasn't true, not completely. "No, I'm doing it because I love you. Getting into your pants is my mind's way of rationalizing this imminent pain to my body."

Roxas bit back a grin and reached over to brush back a bit of Axel's hair, teasing an earring between two fingertips as he pulled his arm back. "What a lovely, romantic statement."

"I did manage to slip an 'I love you' in there," Axel pointed out, eyes soaking up everything Roxas did, every move he made, every plane of his face, every angle of his twisted body. Just soaking up Roxas. He shouldn't still look so breathtakingly lovely after all this time. "If you didn't notice."

Roxas let the grin go. "I noticed." Leaning over, the stick-shift kneading warningly into his gut, the blond pressed a deliciously soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips. Just one, before he straightened and flicked a chunk of his bangs out of his eyes. "I love you too. Besides, after this we have the entire weekend to ourselves." Ocean blue eyes were swollen with hidden meaning and implications. "And I intend to make this up to you."

Axel knew that look. Axel loved that look. That look had had him out of his pants in five seconds flat on more than one occasion. This time, though, it just got him out of the car like the hunk of metal was sinking and he'd die if he stayed a moment longer. "Then why are we still sitting here, we have a party to go to."

***

Axel sighed with relief when he saw that the bar was far from empty. It wasn't thriving, but there were people scattered around the booths and lined up along the bar and making out in the corner next to the pinball machine. Plenty of people for a guy to lose himself in, even one with such a vibrant shock of hair.

The door shut behind them with a tired whoosh, sealing them inside. The bar wasn't exactly dingy, but the lights were cranked down low and the air carried the slightest hint of sick, though it was nearly overwhelmed by the sharp cut of bleach. It was dark, seemingly clean, and relatively quiet. Axel liked it quite a bit. Maybe he'd even come back.

Beside him, Roxas scanned the booths and tables before settling on one near the back, where Axel could see a pair of figures wreathed in shadow. The blond boy tugged on his sleeve with the hand that wasn't bearing a tray of cookies sheathed in plastic wrap, and motioned for him to move it.

Axel tried not to drag his feet too much, gently teasing apart the scattered crowd so Roxas could squeeze through after.

"Happy birthday Demyx!" Roxas called when they were just a few feet away, scooting ahead of Axel as both of the figures swiveled around.

Demyx leaped to his feet and scrambled out of the booth, sprinting over to wrap Roxas in an enthusiastic bear hug. The birthday boy looked exactly the same as he had the last time Axel had seen him, nearly a year ago. Short and sprightly, with a bright, slaphappy face and a hair-do almost as ridiculous as Axel's. Brownish-blond hair sheared short on top and grown out at the back, with a few straggly bangs. Almost a mullet, and yet…not quite. He was wearing jeans and a Flogging Molly band tee, which threw Axel for a loop.

Flogging Molly was…cool. And Demyx was so…not.

"Thanks Roxas," Demyx said, tearing back from the embrace and holding the slightly shorter boy by his shoulders. "I'm so happy you could come." His aquamarine eyes traveled from Roxas' face to Axel's, standing back a little bit and wishing he was back farther. "And Axel too, it's nice to see you again."

For a moment Axel stood mute, before a not-so-subtle elbow dug up into his gut. "Likewise," he choked, trying to swallow a groan.

Roxas dragged all attention back to him, holding out the cookies like he was a model on a game show, presenting the winner with his fabulous prize. "I know you said not to bring anything, but I had to give you something."

Demyx accepted them with a delicate blush and an abashed grin. "Oh, Roxas, thank you. I'll bet they're delicious." He nodded at the table, where another man still sat. No matter how hard Axel tried, he couldn't discern anything about him except…bulk. "Why don't you come and sit down, we need to catch up."

"That sounds wonderful," Roxas gushed, overdoing it by a mile, not that Demyx noticed. The blond boy landed a hand on Axel's upper-arm, pretending he didn't have to stretch to reach. He patted once, twice. "I think Axel's feeling a little sick though, he'll go to the bathroom and join us later."

Axel jerked out of non-reality, ripping his eyes away from Roxas' ass. "Huh?" Roxas glanced over his shoulder, turning his ocean eyes up at him. Eyebrows jumped up with meaning, a secretive little smile playing over his lips. Axel's eyes bulged wide with understanding. "Oh, yeah, ugh," he said, clutching dramatically at his stomach, crumpling the folds of his shirt in two fists. "Happy birthday Demyx."

Sparing his boyfriend a grateful, worshipping glance, the redhead darted off, losing himself in the general direction of away.

"I hope you feel better!" Demyx called after him before latching onto Roxas' elbow and towing him towards the corner booth. "Come on Roxas." Rescuing a messenger bag from under the table, Demyx tucked the cookies snugly inside, gesturing to the other man as he did so. "You remember Lexaeus, right?"

Roxas spared a glance at the hulking man, finally visible. He was…fucking huge. Ridiculously over muscled, a fact that wasn't well hidden by his black jeans and T-shirt. Roxas wondered absently if he had to shop in the sections marked Giants. His face was square and strongly featured, accented by the fact that his hair--a weird, orangey-auburn color--was swept back from his face into messy, wavy spikes. "Mmhmm, it's nice to see you."

Lexaeus said nothing, and the nod he gave could've easily been mistaken for the rise and fall of breathing.

Ignoring Demyx's silent best friend, Roxas took a seat across from Demyx and proceeded to fill him in on everything that had happened since they'd last met.

***

Demyx broke off midsentence, his head jerking up and his eyes swallowing up his face, filling with worry. "Oh God," he whined, nibbling nervously at his lip. who invited Larxene?"

Roxas coiled around in his seat. It took just a moment to catch a glimpse of his other cousin. Even though she was short, her electric blond hair was easy to spot in the gloom. She didn't look happy, her forehead folded with irritation and her arms wound around her chest.

"She probably came with Luxord," Roxas said. "He said he was bringing some people." Another scan of the bar didn't reveal Larxene's taller brother, and Roxas frowned. "Hmm, I don't see him though."

Demyx whimpered and ducked his head. "Don't let her see me."

Roxas shot him a weird look. "What's wrong, she's your cousin."

Shaking his head, Demyx sank a little lower in his seat. "She's so mean to me. She electrocuted my goldfish."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "That was when you were seven."

"Not much has changed in fourteen years. I hate her."

Another eye roll that outshone the first one entirely. "You can't just avoid her for the rest of your life. I bet it's not nearly as bad as you make it out to be." Shoving himself to his feet, Roxas wrapped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Hey, Larxene!"

His cousin spun around, her face melting into a smile. She waved, and began to make her way over.

Demyx was horrified, his eyes growing even wider with shock. "No! Don't get her over here!"

Roxas shimmied out of the booth and shook his head, sadly, disappointedly. "Demyx, you aren't a kid anymore, you have to learn to face your fears."

Larxene chose that moment to make her appearance, coiling skinny arms around Roxas' equally skinny chest and pulling him into a hug. "Hey Roxy," she said as she let him go. She had to resist the urge to reach down and tweak his cheek. Roxas was easily her favorite relative, even if she wasn't his. "I think you get cuter every time I see you."

"It's nice to see you too Larxene," Roxas said, ever polite, though wishing she didn't smell quite so much like something burning. It wasn't the same kind of fire Axel smelled like, he was like sweet wood smoke. Larxene smelled like dinner hopelessly charred. "Don't you have something to say to Demyx?"

Larxene spared Demyx a sour glance, her lip curling in disdain. "Happy birthday, snot face."

Demyx raised his head a fraction, trying to force a welcoming smile onto his unwelcoming face. "Thanks, I guess."

Larxene snorted. "Don't mention it."

"Roxas!"

Roxas spun around at Axel's call to see the redhead waving him over, his face a twisted mask of pleading. "Oh, that's Axel." Thankful for an excuse to escape the suffocating awkwardness, Roxas shot his cousins an encouraging look. "I'll be back in a little bit, you guys talk."

For once in their lives, Larxene and Demyx rode the same wavelength. "Talk?"

***

Axel leaned over the bar, lifting his ass from the stool and closing a good chunk of the distance between himself and the burly bartender. "I. Would. Like. A. Beer," he said, morphing each syllable into a word and each word into a sentence.

The bartender just stared at him with blank eyes and kept scrubbing at a perfectly clean mug with a perfectly filthy rag. It squeaked against the glass, a sound so tiny and faint that Axel shouldn't have been able to hear it amid the roaring chatter, but he could. It was driving him insane.

"Beer," he said again, louder, spewing the word, covering the bar in a fine mist of spittle. "Drink." He lifted one hand to his mouth and curled it around an imaginary glass, tipping it back and pretending to drink. "Glug-glug."

Those empty eyes just kept right on staring at him. Hooded violet eyes, shadowed under the thick shade of his bushy eyebrows. A couple of thin dreadlocks hung in front of his face like bangs, but the rest of his dreads were as thick around as Axel's thumb and tied back. Sideburns hooked around his square jaw and flat cheekbones.

Axel sighed and tried a different approach. "I am a cheap French whore." Every sound was enunciated perfectly, every inflection unmistakable, but the man didn't so much as open his lips. Was he deaf? Mute? Retarded?

"He doesn't speak English." Axel crashed back into his seat and turned to face the man who'd spoken. He was sitting in the next stool over, his arms propped up on the counter and his head drooping low over his drink. As short and as skinny as Roxas, his sneakered feet dangled in the air, refusing to even think about brushing the floor. Slate gray emo-boy hair was dangling in his face, so Axel couldn't read his expression.

"Then what the hell is he doing here?" Axel asked, hauling his eyebrows together.

The man shrugged and twisted his head a little to the side so that Axel could catch a glimpse of half a pale face uncovered by hair. The man had delicate, boyish features, and his one visible eye quirked up a little at the outside edge, giving him an Asian sort of look. "He owns the bar. Those Germans sure know their beer."

A thought flitted through Axel's head. "German you say?"

The man nodded, flicking back a chunk of his hair just so it could flop right back into place.

Swiveling around on his seat, Axel called to his boyfriend, standing halfway across the bar chatting with Demyx and some blond chick. "Hey, Roxas!" he yelled, waving him over as the boy turned and gave him a questioning look.

Roxas said something to the pair and threaded his way over, taking a seat on Axel's left and glancing up at him with expectation filling his ocean eyes. "What is it, Axel?"

Axel pointed an irritated finger at the bartender, who didn't react in any other way but to pick up a glass just as clean as the one before it and start scrubbing at it. "You took German in high school, can you tell him I want a beer?"

Roxas raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Uh, yeah, I guess." Rising out of his seat, he leaned over the counter much as Axel had down, propped up on his forearms. Except Axel hadn't had to hook his feet onto the framework of the barstool because he was too short to reach. "Konnte er sich ein Bier?"

The bartender blinked in surprise and wobbled his head, pawing at his face as if shaking off a helmet of cobwebs that had been sewn around him while he wandered in la-la land. Thick black dreads whipped about his face like jungle vines. "Wer?"

Roxas jerked a thumb towards Axel, who--dumbfounded--watched him. He'd been thinking there wasn't anything about Roxas he didn't know already, but here his boyfriend was, rattling away like there was a swastika strapped around arm. He hadn't thought an underpaid, half-baked high school German teacher taught how to talk so…believably. "Ihn. Die mit dem roten Haar."

The bartender looked at Axel with new eyes. They were the same deep violet, draped with the same shadows, but this time he could see a hint of light twinkling behind all that engulfing darkness. "Oh. Er ist schön. Ich möchte seine Kinder zu gebären."

A single blond brow jumped nearly off Roxas' forehead, but he kept talking without the slightest pause. "Nun, du kannst nicht. Alle seine zukünftigen Kinder zu mir gehören. Können Sie bitte nur erhalten, ihm ein Bier?"

The bartender sighed in resignation but bobbed his head. "Ja, ich ihm ein Bier." Ducking down, there was a chorus of tinkling glass before he reappeared with a brown bottle, that he slid into Axel's eager, hungry hands.

Roxas grinned as his boyfriend wrenched away the cap and took a long, gulping draught. "There you go sweetheart," he said, darting up to plant a sweet little kiss on Axel's cheek as he swallowed and lowered the drink. "That wasn't all that hard."

Axel laughed and hiked his shoulders. One hand snuck around to play with a curl of Roxas' hair. "I took French, babe, not Nazi."

The blush that overwhelmed Roxas' cheeks was deep, last-drips-of-sunset crimson, and damn adorable. "Oh be quiet," he laughed, batting away Axel's fingers.

A moment later his laugh was cut off as someone yelled. His blue eyes crept to the side, his lip coming under the abuse of his teeth. "I'm going to go make sure my family hasn't self-destructed," he said, rolling to his feet and bumping Axel's knee with his hip as he danced away.

"Let me know if it did," Axel called after him, trying to stare at the back of his head instead of at his ass. "I have to start planning the party."

***

Neither Larxene or Demyx had ever known a silence as long or as awkward as the one that ensued. Lexaeus had--it was better known as his life--but it didn't bother him like it did the other two.

"So," Larxene said, sucking in her lower lip and mashing it between her teeth.

Demyx nodded, bangs flopping listlessly in front of his eyes. "So."

Larxene folded her arms over her chest. "Twenty-one."

Another nod. "Yep. Twenty-one."

"You think Roxas is coming back soon?" She resisted the urge to scan the room for him. It probably would've been impossible to pick out that short blond head among the gathering crowd anyway.

Demyx shrugged, wishing there was a place he could run off to, somewhere he could hide. He could sneak underneath the table, but that was where Larxene's feet were, and she kicked hard. "I don't know. Maybe not."

Larxene let out a whoosh of air and thumped her head back against the bench seat, sending her antennae quivering just like Demyx's nerves. "Then I need a drink." Her eyes flicked over the pulsing mass of heads until they settled on one. "Hey, waiter"--she snapped her fingers at him, a tall guy in dress pants, a pressed white shirt and a vest--"busboy, guy with the blue hair!"

That last one was the one that caught his attention, finally, his head swiveling around to hunt down the source of Larxene's voice. With skill that came of practice he weaved his way over, slipping a pad of paper out of his pants pocket.

"Yes ma'am?" he said, voice measured as precisely as deli meat.

Larxene snatched up a menu, gave it the honor of a once-over before setting it back down. "I'll have a beer." The man scribbled something on his pad. Larxene's eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to the side, as if to catch a better side of him. He was built like a daddy-longlegs, spindly, stretched limbs pasted onto a shorter torso. His hair was summer-sky blue and long, the bottom layer kissing his armpits and the top layer scraped back from his face. Eyes glowed like chips of amber, and a pale pink X was drawn across the bridge of his nose.

Some girls might've been turned off by a scar that bespoke such violence, but not Larxene. She thought it was hot. "Hey, you know--"

The man ignored her flat out, turning to face Demyx, pencil poised. "And what will you have?"

A snort ripped from Larxene's throat and she scrambled for the waiter's attention. "He doesn't matter. You know, you're pretty sexy. Wanna get out of here?"

Reluctantly, the waiter tossed her a glance over his shoulder. Amber eyes were aloof and cold, as lifeless as the surface of the moon. "I would appreciate it if you halt your advances here."

Demyx smashed a fist against the tabletop, leaning forward, teeth unnaturally bared. "Yeah, bitch, shut up and let me order." As soon as the words were out his hands scrambled to catch them and take them back. He had never been so mean to anyone in his life, not even Larxene, who had done so much worse to him. But for some all his blood had been siphoned away and replaced by molten rage.

The man turned back to him. "What would you like?"

Larxene wouldn't take that for an answer. She unraveled her arms and spun the man around by his elbow. "I would like you to stop being so distant and flirt back, like you know you want to."

Demyx had to stop himself from reaching across the table and slapping her. Anger was pulsing through him, white hot and unforgiving. "Stop being such an ass!" The boy flipped open a laminated menu, scanned it in all of two seconds and set it back down. "Can I get a basket of fries?"

The man nodded, jotting something down and tucking away his notebook. "Certainly." He bent over the table to pick up the menus, long-fingered hands stretching to reach.

Larxene produced a grin that would've shamed the Devil and scooted closer to the edge of the booth, sneaking her hand around to land on the man's exposed side. The man jolted at the touch, rearing back, but Larxene scuttled all the way down to his ass before he swatted her away.

His gold eyes, tawny like an owl's, or a cat's, glared at her, swelling with hate and disgust. His upper lip rippled with a suppressed snarl. He looked like he was trying very hard not to slap the customer across her grinning face.

"Larx-ene!" Demyx wailed, his forehead folding into a million little creases, his eyebrows knitting together. Color sprinted up to dye his cheeks, his blood still pulsing with uncontrollable anger. The feeling was new and strange, but Demyx couldn't stop feeling it anymore than he could pause his heartbeats. "Stop being such a mother fucking bitch!" The swearwords tasted ugly on his tongue but there was no way he could hold them back.

The blue-haired man, while glaring silently, looked like he wanted to say the exact same things, curses battering themselves against his iron self-control. He just barely fought them back, allowing them to peek out only through the windows of his eyes.

Larxene gasped, her hands darting down to cradle her gut. She scrambled to her feet, blowing past the blue-haired man with a mumbled, "Bathroom." Wending her way through the crowd, she desperately hoped that the change she could feel jingling in her pocket wasn't just dimes and pennies.

***

Axel was bumming quietly at the bar, his elbows propped up on the counter, his back growing a slight hump and his fingers tracing the rim of his beer. He felt depressing, like a poster of a dead puppy plastered to a five-year-old's wall, but he didn't care. He was just waiting for Roxas to grow sick of this place so they could both leave.

A slight figure plopped down onto the stool next to him and for a second Axel's heart did a back flip into his throat, thinking the blond hair belonged to Roxas, but then it settled into his shoes when he picked out differently styled hair and slightly more feminine features, contorted into a scowl. Not Roxas, just another dead puppy.

"This party is bullshit," she hissed, clapping her hands to her face and nuzzling into her palms. Her blond hair was short--ear-length--and slicked back, with two antennae-like things rising from her temple. It was weird, but Axel didn't have anything to say about weird hair when his own took unprotected eyes out.

Axel tipped his beer in greeting before pouring the rest of it down his gullet. "Don't I know it. If there wasn't beer I think I might kill myself." It was a little bit of an exaggeration, but Axel was making use of his creative license. If there was no beer he'd probably be clinging to Roxas' leg and whimpering about wanting to go home.

The girl peeled back her hands and glanced up at him through mascara-abused eyelashes. Her eyes were very, very blue, almost like Roxas'. It was disconcerting. "Hey," she said, giving him a once-over. "You're hot."

Axel returned the favor, studying her like an artist studies one of his paintings before deciding whether to throw it in the trash or not. She was really, scarily skinny, dressed in cargo pants and a loose long-sleeved tee that made it hard for Axel to tell whether she had any chest or not. She was vampire-pale.

Axel wasn't really a good judge of pretty in women, but he guessed she wasn't ugly, per se. That hair though…eugh. "I'm also taken."

Maybe she heard something in his voice that he didn't plan, maybe some hint of flirting, but in any event one eyebrow jumped up and her lips coiled, teasingly. "I think you're bluffing."

Axel suppressed a sigh. Trash, definitely trash. "Really?" he said, a little sad that he had to drive away a potential drinking buddy. Setting his beer on the counter, he spun around and picked out a familiar head of blond spiky hair. "Roxas!" Roxas turned, blue eyes hunting down his boyfriend in half a second.

"Yeah?" he called back, already stepping closer.

"Explain this chick how I bang you into the floor every night!"

Roxas stopped walking and rolled his eyes in a way that wasn't really annoyed. It was more of a non-verbal Jesus Christ. The blond boy twirled right back around and headed towards a still grinning Demyx.

Axel twisted towards the bar, snatching back up his empty beer bottle. The smile hovering on his lips didn't disappear when the girl's eyebrow leaped higher, her voice turned judging. "You're gay?"

A flitting smile morphed into a grin as insane as the light flickering in his eyes. He nodded. "Flaming."

***

Blondie made a hasty retreat after that, being absorbed back into the party, and Axel wailed and waved and cat-called at the bartender, trying to get the attention the man was desperately trying to refuse him.

Axel needed another beer. He needed one now.

Finally, the dreadlocked bar owner came crashing into the bartender, screeching at him in violent German and jabbing a finger towards Axel. With a sigh the bartender shuffled towards the redhead, eyes glued to his feet.

"How can I help you sir?" he asked, mumbling everything through clumsy lips. Axel quirked an eyebrow at him. Was everybody in this goddamn place blond? This guy certainly was, his hair crawling all the way down to his shoulder blades, pale gold and ruler-straight.

"Can I get another beer?" Axel asked, pointing to the empty one resting beside his elbow.

The bartender still refused to look at him, and long bangs hid his face in shadow, so Axel couldn't read his expression. His "yes sir" sounded…scared though. Was Axel really all that terrifying? Sure, the hair was a little shocking, and the tattoos might've thrown some people for a loop, but really?

The bartender--Vexen, his nametag said--retreated, dug around for a moment and slid him another beer, marking down something on a pad of paper. He still refused to show his face.

"Psst, Axel." Axel twisted around to see Demyx whispering in his ear, his forehead a mess of worried creases. "Can you get me a drink?"

Axel crooked an eyebrow and shifted back a little. Roxas' cousin had crept up awful close. "Why can't you do it?"

Demyx bit down on his lower lip. "I just really don't want to, please do it for me." His eyes were begging, and even though they were a dozen shades greener than Roxas', Axel felt his walls weaken, battered away at by such a similar gaze to the one he loved.

A moment later he sighed and spun back around, reaching for his drink with one hand and hailing the blond bartender with the other. "Yo, Vexen." Shoulders curled in on themselves, the man wandered back over. Axel glanced at Demyx. "What do you want, Demyx?"

"Uhm, I don't know," he said, knotting and unknotting his fingers. "Uh…uh…"

The bartender flashed him an exasperated glare and for the first time Axel saw his face. His cheeks were sunken, his cheekbones as sharp as knives. Axel was amazed they didn't wear through the pale skin. Emerald eyes a shade lighter than Axel watched Demyx with unhidden disdain. "Kid decide or stop wasting my time." His voice was frosty, every 's' stretched into a hiss.

"Just chill the fuck out dude," Axel said, a sudden maternal urge to protect Demyx sweeping over him. The kid hasn't done anything wrong, and this guy's being a total douche. "Give him a chance."

Vexen ducked down behind his hair once more, and muttered, "If you say so."

Demyx was still trying to think up what he wanted. "Uhm, what drinks do you have?"

"What are you, stupid?" Vexen hissed, grinding his teeth together. Bipolar bitch much? "Just order what you want already."

Axel stuck a hand out, recapturing the bartender's suddenly meek gaze. "He'll have what I'm having."

The blond man nodded solemnly. "Coming right up." He slunk away, returning within moments with a beer identical to the one Axel was nursing. Then, without another word he vanished completely.

Fucking bipolar ninja.

There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence as Demyx tried to work off the bottle cap. Finally he succeeded, took an experimental sip, and asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Axel's eyes grew a touch wider. "Huh?"

"Roxas said you were feeling sick," Demyx elaborated. "Are you better?"

"Oh, yes," Axel said, dredging up a heaving cough that half-strangled his words. "A little. Still iffy though. Very, very iffy." He pressed his palms to his stomach, trying to make his face twist into an appropriately queasy expression. "I could explode at any time."

Demyx nodded sympathetically. "Well, when you're better I'd love it if you came over, we haven't had a chance to talk since Christmas." The brunette smiled, bouncing on the balls of feet.

Axel scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. "Yeah," he lied, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Uh, okay…I guess." Yeah right. Axel knew perfectly well he would rather cram a finger down his throat and barf his guts out for real than trade pleasantries with Demyx.

At least the kid seemed to possess no internal lie detector, and shot him another smile before bouncing away.

***

Finally, when Axel couldn't stand the noise and smell of too many people in too little a space, he grabbed his beer, left a five and shoved his way through the crowd to the door. He wished he wouldn't have to go back in, he wished he could just get in his car and drive far, far away. But Roxas had the keys, and even if he hadn't, Axel wouldn't have left without him.

The muggy, dying-summer breeze tongued his face and wormed it's way under his shirt, hinting at the cold bite darkness would bring when the sun--struggling valiantly at the horizon--succumbed and sank to it's fiery death. Axel pulled his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders, and tried not to shiver to pieces. His body wasn't built for the cold, he was a creature of flames and raw, burning heat. Every winter ground out a little piece of his soul under its icy boot.

Downing a gulp of his beer, Axel kicked up his foot against the bar front and arranged his spine to fit into the creases of the brick. The city sounds were smothered, a thick wool blanket pressed down over the shiny steel and dull cement. A few cars ambled past, but not a single driver glanced his way.

"He's late," a voice muttered. Axel looked to the right, noticing a man there for the first time. He was a little shorter than Axel, with a close-cropped head of blond hair and a matching fuzz of a beard. Slim-built but strong-looking, he was hovering near the building without touching it, his arms wound into an angry bunch over his chest. "He's late, he's really really fucking late."

"What are you?" Axel asked, snorting into his drink so that the sound echoed about the inside of the bottle. "The White Rabbit?"

The man glanced his way, already shaking his head in despair. Piercings tinkled in his ears. His eyes were a deep, deep blue, worthy of being called sapphire. They reminded Axel of Roxas'. "He does this to me every time, just because he knows how much it pisses me off."

"Who does?" Axel asked, wondering if he'd found a new relative, and wondering if he should wait around to see if this man was an exception to the rule. He seemed like he might be, what with the piercings and the swearing and the clothes he wore, which Axel could've just as easily picked out of his own drawer. Black jeans with tortured holes cut into the knees, and a short-sleeved blue tee over a long-sleeved black one.

The man snorted and peeled back his sleeves, scrunching them up to his elbows, revealing a hint of a tattoo, something black, white and red. Playing cards maybe? A leather band was wound around his wrist. "Xigbar." Then he registered Axel's uncomprehending stare. "Oh, I'm sorry, you have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm Luxord." He stretched forward his inked arm and Axel shook it.

The name seemed familiar. "I'm Axel."

Understanding lit up the Luxord's jewel eyes, and he flashed a warm smile. "Roxas' boyfriend, right? I'm his cousin. I don't think we met. I haven't been to many family gatherings lately."

No, we certainly did not meet. Where were you when I was drowning in Better Homes and Betty Crocker? "How did you manage to escape?" Axel said, laughing a little drunkenly. He wasn't quite drunk yet, but the alcohol was starting to make his veins fizz. Maybe if Luxord didn't turn out a dud then Axel could survive the endless night without having to spend it staring longingly at Roxas' ass.

Not that he minded staring at Roxas' ass all night, but he thought his boyfriend would probably get sick of it after a few hours.

Luxord laughed too, even though his eyes kept flickering back to the street and exploding with irritated fire. "I ate some bad salmon. At least that's what I told Aunt Namine, she still doesn't know that Xigbar and I drove to Vegas as soon as I was off the phone."

The last of Axel's beer trickled teasingly down his throat, and he pitched the bottle into the trash can attending its post, next to the bus stop. "And Xigbar is…" Now that was a name he was sure he hadn't heard before.

Luxord wasn't even pretending to look at Axel now, his eyes were riveted to the road. Not that Axel minded, all of Roxas' relatives having nearly the same blue eyes was really…unnerving. "My roommate. We've been best friends since Junior High."

Axel nodded, wishing he wouldn't have to go back inside to get another beer. Even if it was colder than he liked out here, the breeze licking over his clammy cheeks was refreshing and the only crazies out here were his brand of insane. "And he's late?"

"Unfashionably." The man's lip rippled with annoyance. For the first time Axel noticed the slightest hint of a British accent contorted Luxord's vowels. It wasn't obvious, mangling the words only a little, but it was there. Had he grown up in England? "He knows it pisses me off and he likes to fuck with my head."

"He's still your best friend though?"

Luxord stole a peek at Axel, giving him a confused look, as if he'd just suggested that pigs could fly. "Of course. He's like my brother."

Both men grew still and silent as a car chugged down the street but didn't speed right past. Instead, the pale pink slug bug with daisy wheels chattered to a stop, parking right behind Axel's sedan. It was probably the girliest car Axel had ever seen, and likewise, the girliest man--or, at least, he thought it was a man--that clomped onto the sidewalk.

Feathery, shoulder-length, baby-girl-pink hair, khaki shorts that were too short and too tight and a tank-top in the same condition. There was a bag slung over his--hers--its--shoulder, and from the depths, "it" plucked a tinkling chain of keys, pounding on the beeper with a manicured fingernail. The slug bug chirped, headlights flashing.

"It" turned to face the bar, and Axel picked out a distinct lack of a chest, but at the same time, he noticed the shimmery make-up adorning "its" face. Eye-shadow, lip gloss, a dusting of blush, the whole she-bang. "Hello!" it sang, waving at Axel and Luxord. The voice didn't help a bit, caught in eternal falsetto.

"Uh, hi," Axel said, raising one eyebrow. He was being rude, yes, staring like an idiot, but damn. He really couldn't name that gender. It wore guy's sneakers, but they weren't exactly manly. Earrings trickled from its lobes, but its neck was beefier than a woman's should be.

Axel was still stumped as it danced past, reeking of flowery perfume and disappeared into the bar.

"Jesus Christ," he said, glancing at Luxord's face. The blond looked a little uneasy, a little wary, staring after "it". "And I thought I was flaming."

Luxord nodded with agreement, his hand darting up to itch at his beard, as if to reassure himself that it was still there. "That's Marluxia." Luxord had met Marluxia once, at Demyx's house, and he was kind of hoping he wouldn't have to relive the experience.

Nope, the name was no help. "Dude or chick?"

Shrugging, Luxord buried his fists in the pockets of his jeans and tried not to tap his food against the pavement too fast. It was hard, since he could easily hear the churning pulse of the song pumping from inside the bar, and he had to force his muscles to stray off-beat. "Word on the street is it's a guy, but I can never quite tell."

***

Roxas was at the table, chatting with Demyx and Lexaeus--well, not really chatting with him, more just sitting next to him--when a squeal shattered the bar and his next sentence. "De-myx!"

The three of them turned automatically, and Demyx broke into a soft smile at the man--Roxas was almost sure it was a man--who was running over. "Oh, hey Marluxia!"

With long, bubble-gum hair, a falsetto trill and too-tight clothes, Roxas thought maybe "it" was more appropriate.

"Come here and give me a hug, you big idiot," Marluxia crowed, crushing Demyx in a monstrous hug, his handbag whipping around to slap the brunette across the face. Rearing back, "it" turned its sparkling blue-eyed stare to Lexaeus, spreading its arms wide. "Lexaeus, you too!" The massive man didn't move, but didn't protest as it bent double over the table, stretching to wrap him in an awkward half-hug.

Straightening, Marluxia caught sight of Roxas, gaping at him, and beamed.

"Who is this adorable little thing?" it gushed, reaching over to tweak Roxas' cheek. Trying very hard to be polite and neither cuss this thing out nor punch it in the grinning face, Roxas worried at his lip.

"This is my cousin," Demyx said, fixing his hair with one pass of his hand. Roxas. Roxas, this is my friend Marluxia. We went to high school together."

Marluxia gasped with delight and smothered Roxas in a hug twice as exuberant as the one it'd given Demyx. Flowery perfume smacked him in the face, bringing a thin film of tears to his eyes and summoning the start of a migraine. "Where have you been hiding all your good family members, he's so cute. I just love him already!"

Roxas swallowed a sigh and mashed his eyes shut, fortifying his nerves and his self-control for a night that kept building on its promise to be a bad one.

***

Axel had disappeared back into the bar, muttering something about "too damn cold" and beer, leaving Luxord to tap his foot a little faster and let loose a string of endless curses.

Seven minutes and thirty-five seconds later--Luxord counted--a bus pulled up to the stop, drew back its doors with a squeal and spat Xigbar onto the sidewalk. The grinning, scarred man ambled over, thumbs hooked through his belt loops like a tobacco chewing cowboy in a bad fifties Western.

"What's up?" he said, eye sparkling rosy-gold in the light vomited up by the withering sun. Luxord had to fold his arms together and dig his ragged nails into the meat of his forearms to stop himself from giving his roommate a bit of symmetry.

"You're late," Luxord said, his voice devoid of any emotion, his face wiped neatly clean. "You said 5:00. It's 6:30."

Xigbar sighed, putting on a pained mask. "Aw, I know man, I'm sorry. I couldn't decide between the green shirt and the blue shirt."

Luxord glanced at his friend's outfit, brow crumpled. "You're wearing red."

Xigbar's mask shattered like paper-thin glass, revealing a manic grin that suited his scarred face a thousand times better. "Of course. Now come on, the night is still young."

***

The night was middle-aged and clinically depressed. Axel had taken his beer and retreated to the pinball table, only to find a white-haired man crouched in the corner, arms strung around his knees, golden eyes unfocused as they watched nothing.

He didn't speak, didn't react when Axel called him names or kicked him in the shins.

It was only a few minutes before Axel got bored of torturing him and sank into a long run of pinball games that emptied his wallet. The machine might as well have put a gun to his head and demanded the cash, now, before it was forced to splattered the wall with Axel's brains.

No money meant no more beer, which meant nothing to distract him from the fact he was still here, and that Roxas had shown no signs of wanting to go home.

***

Or at least, none that Axel had seen. Roxas wanted very dearly to go home, but there was the problem of Marluxia. No matter where he went, the pink-haired man followed right along. Up to the counter to order a beer, Marluxia wanted a beer. Around the bar looking for Axel, Marluxia lost a contact. To the bathroom, and Marluxia had a video camera.

The man refused to leave him be, and Roxas thought that having him there--all lovey and huggy and oppressive--while he explained to Axel that they were getting the hell out might not have been the best idea. If Axel was possessive when he was sober, Roxas didn't want to find out what he was when he was drunk and there was another man clinging to his boyfriend.

So he put up with the creeping and waited for the night to slowly die.

***

Luxord and Xigbar were having a better time of it, clinking drinks like high society and guzzling them down like drunkards, working up a wonderful, high-flying buzz. That was, until their wallets grew suspiciously light and when the bartender opened his hand for the bill, they had nothing to offer.

They wheedled a couple bucks out of Larxene and paid the tab, but were left to sulk at a table and let the fuzzy warm alcohol bleed from their systems.

***

Demyx, at least, was having a good enough time at his own party, but he wasn't a good ruler to measure the atmosphere by. As long as Larxene wasn't around (she'd found a corner to hide in) he was happy as a clam.

***

The night was elderly, its back cleanly broken. It lay on a hospital bed, dying, and pretty sure that death was better than this endless, agonizing pain it was put through.

***

Xigbar and Luxord had dragged Demyx and Lexaeus over to a table and were trying to teach the birthday boy blackjack, figuring that if he sucked they might con a few more drinks' worth out of him.

Luxord, who always had a pack of cards on him had played the dealer for the first few rounds before handing off the role to Xigbar when he realized Demyx still wasn't getting it. He held his hand towards the kid, explaining again and again with increasingly smaller words to get the idea across. He felt like a kindergarten teacher.

"So, if I want another card I say 'hit me'?" Demyx asked, glancing at Luxord over his hand with innocent, aquamarine eyes.

"Yes," Luxord said, willing himself to be patient. Do it for the money, do it for the beer, do it for the money. He chanted the words inside his head like a mantra to keep away the Devil.

"That's sounds violent," Demyx continued, his little-boy lips scrunching into a frown. Luxord sighed and shared a glance with Xigbar, who held the deck with one hand and ruffled the cards with the other.

"Did somebody say violent?" Axel said, appearing at one end of the table. His lips stretched into a Cheshire Cat grin as his palms came down on the edge of the table. A chain tumbled out of his shirt as he leaned over, a pendant swaying like a hypnotist's watch. It was the Roman numeral eight.

"Hey Axel," Luxord said, smiling in greeting. "You get bored with the pinball machine?"

Axel shook his head, his cherry spikes whipping back and forth. "Naw, some couple came over and wanted to make out in the corner." Emerald eyes fell to the spread cards. "Are you playing blackjack?"

"Yeah, want to join?" Luxord asked, scooting down to make room, smooshing Demyx closer to Lexaeus. "We could use another person that knows how to play."

"It's better than sitting at the bar and wishing I had a beer." Axel fell onto the bench, the textured plastic cushion squeaking as he sank into it. He glanced at Xigbar and held out his hands for a pair of cards. "I suppose you're Xigbar?"

"Yep." Xigbar nodded, dealing out the hand.

Axel glanced at the cards and laid them down. The ace of spades and the queen of diamonds. "Blackjack."

Luxord and Xigbar moaned accordingly, but Demyx didn't yet know enough to understand what was so bad. It was another nine rounds before he had gotten the hang of it, and by then he'd already lost fifty dollars, much to Xigbar and Luxord's contained delight, who were using their winnings to up the bets. Axel, nearly penniless from his encounter with the pinball machine, bet with bits of jewelry. A few rings, an earring, his necklace. He had yet to lose, but never bet enough to empty the dealer's pockets.

It was nearly midnight when Roxas came running up to the table, face flushed, and latched onto his boyfriend's arm, hauling him away from the game. "Axel," he said, his voice leaving no room to argue. His nails bit wickedly into Axel's elbow. "We're leaving."

Axel moaned with relief and reached back to snatch up his bet, replacing the pendant around his throat. Blackjack with Xigbar and Luxord was fun and all, but if he had to put up with one more of Demyx's whimpering protests he might've shot a puppy. Besides, it was fucking late and he was fucking tired. "Thank God." He reached down to give his boyfriend a thankful squeeze, when he caught the blonde's gaze, those laughing blue eyes turned angry and cold. "Roxas, are you okay?"

Roxas opened his mouth to reply that no, he was not okay, when the reason came sprinting towards them, pink hair flouncing and handbag bouncing as Marluxia wailed, "Ro-xas!"

"It" crashed into Roxas from behind, ripping him away from Axel as the man-woman-thing buried the boy in a hug. "Marluxia…" Roxas groaned, his jaw grinding together with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

Fire erupted in Axel's stomach at the look of complete helplessness on Roxas' face. It was a horrible, gut-wrenching look that made Axel want to smash something. Preferably Marluxia's face. How dare it cling to Roxas like that?

"Back off bitch," Axel said, wrapping a hand around his boyfriend's arm and shoving Marluxia's shoulder with the other. It stumbled backwards, clumsy on it's feet, a squeal bursting from glossed lips. "He doesn't want your transvestite ass."

"Ro-xas!" Marluxia wailed, regaining its footing enough to scramble after the boy, again. Roxas snarled under his breath, his chest thrumming softly against Axel's, and that was all Axel needed.

With a wrench of one arm he threw Roxas behind him, crashing back into the table, while he sent the other flying for Marluxia's nose. Bone met cartilage with a sickening snap-crackle-pop and "it" reeled backwards, screeching like a banshee and clutching it's face. Blood as red as Axel's hair trickled from between it's fingers.

"Axel," Roxas gasped, shoving away from the table and reaching for his boyfriend just as Marluxia careened into the blue-haired waiter, knocking him sideways and spilling the tray of drinks he kept balanced on one palm. Beer and soda tumbled down his clean shirtfront, staining it a mix of browns.

The waiter braced himself against the wall as the tray slapped against the floor and a dozen glasses shattered to pieces. "Son-of-a-bitch," he swore, patting at his ruined shirt, his eyebrows knitting together and his face crinkling with rage. His glare jumped from Marluxia to Axel and settled there, tawny and sparkling and furious.

"Axel!" Demyx wailed, jumping to his feet and stomping over to the steaming redhead. "You're so mean!"

Roxas held his cousin back, binding his arms to his sides. Demyx's hands were curled into shivering fists, something that no one there had ever seen before. "Back off Demyx, he was just trying to protect me."

Demyx whirled on his cousin, face flushed. "Shut up Roxas!"

"Cut the crap Demyx," Larxene said, appearing on Demyx's other side. She'd come running when she'd heard bones snapping and glass breaking, because she might've been many things but she was not one to miss watching a fight. "Roxas didn't do anything, you stupid tard."

Demyx tore himself away from Roxas, who normally would've been able to hold on, if his cousin hadn't gotten a sudden surge of strength from his anger. "God, Larxene, you're such a bitch!"

Larxene's hand flew forward, knotting into the collar of Demyx's shirt and lifting him to his tiptoes, nearly right off his feet. Her free hand coiled into a fist that she held in the air, aching to bash Demyx's face in. "Little punk."

And the earth itself moved.

Lexaeus rose to his feet, slamming his cards to the table and shifting, ever so slowly, out of the booth. His muscled arms came up, revealing meaty fists. His voice rang out, deep and powerful and commanding. "Don't even think about it, blondie."

Axel looked at Roxas, who looked up in return. One red eyebrow danced. "Time to go?" Axel asked, trying to stop his voice from squeaking.

Roxas nodded eagerly, knitting his fingers together with his boyfriend's. "Time to go."

***

"Maybe we should get out of here," Luxord said as Lexaeus wrapped a massive hand around Larxene's arm, dragging her away from Demyx. She squealed and squawked, lashing out with nails and wicked words and flailing feet. None of it made Lexaeus so much as blink.

Xigbar laughed, setting down the deck of cards and pushing back his sleeves. "As if."

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